Escape From Buggery Ch. 07

“It’s a bit like that behind the wall in a way,” Buttercup explained, pushing aside a low hanging branch that threatened to scratch her face. “Only there, it’s done wholly for the benefit of the aristocracy and favoured ministers. And by all accounts, their tastes are somewhat more depraved than you ever saw on your holiday. It’s all very sadomasochistic and violent. The boys are the ones who get the roughest treatment, I think. There’s a kind of homosexual bias amongst the inner court. The lifespan for a servant is not very long. And almost everyone who’s not related to royalty is a servant. All you’ve got to do is attract someone’s attention by being too attractive, growing old, having an injury, or just being there, and then you’ll just somehow disappear. It might be after some sex game or other. Or you might just get sent off to the front. It’s the men who get the worst of this, and so there aren’t many men behind the wall.”

“Are these Barons and Lords and so on really rich?” wondered Sharon who had always been fascinated by the lives of the rich and famous. At home she’d often read magazine articles about the eccentricities and depravities of millionaires and rock stars.

“I got to know a little about them while I was there, from talking to people. And although luxury’s all I’ve ever known really, I’d say that they must be very rich. The nobility have gardens, mansions, palaces and so forth which are truly astonishing. There’s so much of it. It’s quite easy to get lost in the grounds and never get found. There are rumours of whole communities that do that. They just hide under the very noses of royalty in the depths of their estates. And the luxuries of private cinemas, enormous swimming pools, monstrous cars, private armies, private helicopters and yachts. It’s too much!”

Tracey might have been poor at sums at school, but she had a vague idea what the value of money was. “Where’d they get their fucking wealth from? I mean, this is a poor country!”

“Yeah!” agreed Sharon. “In comparison to most people we’ve seen here we’re like fucking millionaires. I mean this country’s got nothing. It doesn’t make cars. It doesn’t sell much food. I’ve never seen anything back home with ‘Made In Buggery’ written on it.”

Buttercup smiled at the idea of something being labelled ‘Made In Buggery’. “Buggery makes its money from sex,” she answered.

“Sex?” wondered Tracey, frowning quizzically.

“Yes,” agreed Buttercup. “I’ve only heard about this. But what I’ve heard is, that Sex Tourism is really big business. That’s why there’s so much of it in a country where most of it is out of bounds to foreigners and where everything behind the wall is out of bounds to even people from Buggery. Of my friends at school, a lot ended up in Sex Tourism. I don’t know what they’re doing now, of course. And there are even schools and colleges which specialise in teaching it. The art of sex tourism, I’m told, is to exercise no discretion at all in what sexual relations you have.”

“Like prostitution?” suggested Sharon, who’d once seriously considered this as a career option. After all she was always just giving it away. Why not get a bit back from it?

“What’s ‘prostitution’?” wondered Buttercup. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word before.”

“Is it just sex tourism that makes money?” wondered Tracey, who decided to rescue her friend from having to provide a complex explanation.

“No,” said Buttercup pushing a strand of golden hair out of her face and directing her sparkling eyes at Tracey in a direct way that still unsettled her, even after their last couple of hours of walking together. “It’s substantial but not crucial. Buggery is the leading supplier of pornography and sex related entertainment in the world. Apparently (and Buggery is proud of this) it is the premier supplier in terms of quality and explicitness as well as quantity. I don’t know the exact statistics, but over 95% of all the world’s snuff movies come from Buggery. The film industry produces some 40% of the world’s sex films, and some of the biggest porn stars are from Buggery. The country also supplies a substantial proportion of hard core pornographic books and magazines, and so much pornographic television that the country’s national television station is just a pornographic propaganda machine.”

“Is sex really enough for these people to get so rich?”

“I’m sure there’s reinvestment as well. But it’s not just the royalty that has to be financed, there’s also the war with Gomorrah. It’s an expensive war. And it’s only sustainable because Buggery tolerates a very high death rate.”

“A high death rate?” asked Tracey.

“I don’t know more than that,” Buttercup admitted. “But behind the wall, it’s the main reason why there aren’t too many men there. They just go to the front to fight against Gomorrah and never return. Mind you! They’re maybe the lucky ones. The ones that got out. At least they’re no longer going to be mutilated by the nobility just for their perverted pleasure.”

“Like your friends you were telling us about?”

“Yes, that’s right,” sighed Buttercup. “I was soon the only one left in that room, although other girls joined me later. The girl who’d had her hand cut off had one more session with the baron, who apparently likes amputated stumps stuck up his anus and other places. She didn’t survive. The girl with the broken nose was reclassified as an Epsilon, and either left for the sex industry or the war. She would never have appeared on national television with a broken nose. That sort of thing’s never allowed, but she might’ve appeared in a violent sex movie perhaps, where apparently there’s a preference for beautiful girls with small defects.

“And I was a survivor. And that’s what I’ve been ever since. I’ve avoided having sex with the baron, which probably explains some of it. I’ve been fucked by the baroness a few times and one of their children took a fancy to me when he was just eleven. On the whole, though, I’ve just been one of many on the Baron’s estate who’re supposed to have regular sex with each other. It’s an ambience he apparently enjoys.

“My instructress explained my duties to me. I wasn’t just to stay there in luxury, I was told. Besides unquestioning sex with whoever would so chose, which was fairly frequent, (but I’d been trained for that) I was to work in the garden. My school results showed that I had an inclination towards biology and horticulture. This was true, but I’d never had the ambition of tending flowers and grass all day and every day. But at least I was out in the open air, and in a position much less exposed to the attention of nobility or whoever. I was never to wear clothes. Only certain privileged people like the instructresses and nobility and police have that privilege. I was to remove all bodily hair, and, as a gardener, to look as natural as possible. Not all girls have such favourable conditions. Some had to shave their heads. Some had extensive body piercing. Some had very peculiar things done to their body. All according to their rôles in the Baron’s estate.

“My instructress had a very limited part in my life from then on. Her task was to prepare new girls for the Baron’s pleasures and then tell them what to do next. I was just a gardener who worked with other girls and one or two men and a couple of eunuchs.”

“Eunuchs?” wondered Sharon, thinking about what a waste of cock this would be.

“Yes,” sighed Buttercup. “This was another taste of the Baron’s. In fact, he liked to conduct the actual castration. Apparently that was a sport he particularly enjoyed.” Buttercup glanced towards a patch of wall which could be seen in the distance, and then said with a touch of bitterness: “In comparison to most people, I’ve spent most of the last two years in relative comfort in amongst the Baron’s herbaceous borders.”